


Journal, Not Journey

by ShatterTheNexus



Series: In Which [5]
Category: PRISTIN (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterTheNexus/pseuds/ShatterTheNexus
Summary: In which Siyeon belts out, “Just a small town girl!” and has her mouth taped shut. Kyungwon proceeds to hand out palm-sized notebooks.





	Journal, Not Journey

Nayoung

Pillows are soft.

Thank God this isn’t a loft.

Rooms are my saving grace.

Wait, it’s 11:30. I need to clean my face.

I can’t believe Yaebin replaced my soap.

The bathroom looks like a landfill.

The kids need to do laundry at least once. It’s already March.

We should probably do a whole dorm purge.

Yewon’s parents are coming on Sunday. We need to cook.

And we’re dogsitting all the canines. Plus two cats. They need baths.

Then we’re meeting in the studio on Friday afternoon.

Practice Saturday to Wednesday.

Buy paper plates because the girls can’t be trusted with the good china.

This is actually a to-do list, not poetry.

But I’m the oldest so nobody’s going to yell at me.

Oh my God, the smoke detect_—_—-____~~~~___/\\__

Kyla

Vines and thorns. Prickly as they are bare.

The brazen sun bears down on their vivid green curves.

Alive, but lacking will. Clinging on, but surviving without passion.

Recognized beauty from the world ten times over.

Never acknowledged by the self, from roots to petal.

It simply is. Existence. No cognizance.

What are we? A girl’s innocence of flowers and bouquets.

Naive. Fragile. Ignorant. Prime sheep.

No.

Rather, a scarred predator. Resilient. Eyes on the prize.

We know. We crave. We declare. We fight.

We prevail. Tattered alone. Together, we are whole.

Kyungwon

_The Art of Ramen_

An ocean of creamy, rich broth to soothe the soul and revive the weary.

Vibrant julienned scallions and crunchy bamboo shoots drift intermittently.

A bed of perfectly springy noodles. A symbol of longevity.

It fills the stomach and cushions emotions.

Two cleanly sliced halves of a marinated egg. Soft-boiled to reveal golden orbs.

The yolk drips into the broth. Another layer of savory delight.

Bordering the vessel are sheets of crisp, fragrant, roasted seaweed.

Finally, the king of the castle - pork belly. Beautiful circlets with a golden-brown sear.

Tender, smoke-infused meat balanced with juicy, rendered fat.

Truly a Blessing in a Bowl.

_Fin_

Eunwoo

I don’t like using my brain. It’s true.

But that doesn’t stop it from running.

I have a lot of thoughts even if it doesn’t seem like it.

I don’t do math. I don’t solve puzzles. I don’t fix things.

I do worry. I do laugh. I do cry. I do regret. I do reflect.

I don’t choose to think. But I do think.

And it’s just words or pictures or voices. Thousands of them.

This journal isn’t helping. I can’t get my thoughts out anyway.

Sungyeon

Day two hundred seventy-nine. Writing out the numbers takes more time, not that I have a shortage of it. My eyes have been deprived of sunlight for three months and counting. Pledis photoshopped me at the mountains. I see tens of me in the practice room mirrors and I realize with a jolt, I need more hoodies. I ran out of composition notebooks. I told the members to purchase more, but Siyeon came back with a tomato skewer coated in hardened sugar boogers. Rumor has it three of the <s>victims</s> girls needed a crown implant, for the delicacy had stripped the enamel right off. Eunwoo finally bought a pair of Crocs, much to everyone’s chagrin. But now she has her eyes on those barefoot running shoes with each. toe. separated. Yaebin has… changed. She used to write lyrics with me by the piano. But ever since Pledis announced the sub-unit, she’s been acting weird. She talks to walls. A lot. Crawls and flexes on the floor. Flirts with herself in the mirror. And sometimes, she even responds. I think she took the dark concept to heart, if she hasn’t sold it to the devil yet. I spoke to Nayoung about my concerns, but she can’t stop greeting Cleopatra at a frequency I can’t hear. I called Kyla. She seems to be sane. Therefore my flight’s in thirteen hours. Yee-haw-na.

Siyeon

Lee this. Kwon that. Park her. Sung him. Jung over here. Kim over there.

A myriad of names and faces. That’s what this life amounts to.

If I fail to internalize them, my face, my name - it’ll all be wiped away.

A slip of the tongue is all it takes.

Five hours on this. Two hours on that. An hour here. Four spent there.

Time drags on when I’m exhausted. It skips forward when I’m at peace.

Energy drains as soon as it is charged. Yet the relentless world keeps moving.

One complaint is all it takes.

Nine grams for this. Seven grams for that. Three kilograms gained. Six kilograms must be lost.

Blemishes are plentiful - hide them. Pain is inevitable - endure it. Willpower is scarce - find it.

A tear is all it takes.

Our job never ceases when the cameras cut off and the radios tune out.

The scrutiny never ceases when the cameras cut off and the radios tune out.

Our instability never ceases when the cameras cut off and the radios tune out.

So why don’t we break?

A sister, nine of them, is all it takes.

Minkyung

February 11-15, 2018

—Out with Heehyun—


End file.
